


Hair Care For Amnesiac Superheroes

by gutterandthestars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Great Hair, Carol Danvers Is Just Kind, Carol Danvers is a Good Bro, F/F, Hair Care Tips, M/M, Space Conditioner, Valkyrie Is Not Having It, steve rogers is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 22:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18748318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutterandthestars/pseuds/gutterandthestars
Summary: Parker wanted Carol and Bucky to swap hair care tips (and gave me the best line), so here you go, friends. May the idea bring you all as much joy as it brought me.It, uh, grew feelings though.This is a non-Endgame compliant fic where Carol Danvers and Bucky Barnes talk serum and split ends, and Carol’s disreputable girlfriend Valkyrie turns up to give Steve Rogers shit about how he’s treating Bucky.There’s no particular adherence to cinematic or comics continuity here, just these idiots dunking on each other as nature intended.





	Hair Care For Amnesiac Superheroes

“So you’re pretty much a fixture now, yeah?” Bucky asks, glancing sideways at Carol, tucking his mismatched hands into the pockets of his jacket and resting his ass against the melamine breakfast bar. In a booth on the other side of the diner, Steve and Sam are deep in conversation. Steve is pouting and Sam is pulling his I’m-a-responsible-citizen-and-therapist face. Bully for him.

Steve has been insisting for a few weeks he and Bucky need to spend more time apart.

Bucky hates it.

Carol’s on the stool next to Bucky, elbows propped on the bar, finishing off an Everything Special and facing the mirrored wall behind the counter. She appears to be considering Bucky’s question. “Pretty much, yeah,” she replies eventually, through a mouthful of her monster breakfast sandwich. She sucks grease off one thumb. “When I’m not out minding the rest of the galaxy’s business, you know how it is.”

“Not really,” says Bucky, dry as dust, and Carol smirks a little, still chewing.

Straightening up, the self described Boss of Space pushes away her empty plate with its ketchup smears and lonely crumbs and rolls her shoulders, tossing her hair. She pulls a face, distracted by the mirror.

Digging into her back pocket, she draws out a tortoiseshell patterned comb that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Bucky’s dresser circa 1938.

Squinting up through her bangs, she plucks and pokes at the top of her head, where one belligerent lock of hair springs stubbornly to attention like the radio aerial on the mini van Bucky stole - sorry, Steve, _borrowed_ \- on his last thrice-damned mission to Poughkeepsie. He’s still ducking the fallout from that one from Director Hill, though Bucky maintains what happened was not his fault. Who the fuck decides it’s a good idea to bring a sniper to a balloon festival anyway?

He watches Carol fight a losing battle with the top of her own head.

“You might just have to lean into that one, Cap. Tell ‘em it’s for receiving RADAR,” he advises her.

“That’s funny. They’d have loved you at the Academy, you’re a wit. Or something rhyming with wit.” Her soft eyes give the lie to her sharp words and Bucky snorts.

“You were Air Force? I don’t know how you kept that mop regulation and found the time to get your commission,” he says, tugging his right hand out of his pocket and reaching back to grab his mug of coffee.

“And yet somehow I outranked you, Sergeant,” says Carol, licking her fingers and smoothing down her hair.

“No, really. _Air Force._ You’re a galactic zoomie,” he tells her, because he’s finding out it’s fun to needle Carol Danvers.

“Shut up, Barnes,” she says, though her heart isn’t in it. She stares into his face for a moment, then laughs. “Ugh, seriously, look at you. You’re runway ready. How do you get it to behave?”

Bucky looks down, where his hair’s curling perfectly on his shoulders. He glances behind him at his reflection and preens. “Twenty-first century technology, what can I say? You’ve either got it or you haven’t.” He strokes his beard for good measure and gives her his most charming smile.

Carol chuckles and makes herself comfortable, slouching sideways, chin on one hand, leaning on the bar. She beams at Bucky, and it’s like a new star rising in the east. “I grew up in the eighties, half my graduating class would have killed for the products and tools they have on Earth these days.”

“You don’t say?” he says, grinning, tapping his chest. “Try the twenties and thirties; Brylcream and Burmashave, those were your options. I’m telling you, Danvers, twenty first century, it’s the age of miracles.”

“Well you’re wearing your decades beautifully, and I gotta say, you in that jacket? Fucking _svelte_. And that beard is working for you.”

“Well, thank you ma’am,” he says, feeling pretty pleased with himself until he sees her face crinkle in mischief and she reaches out with both hands.

“Nope, I can’t hold back, I gotta get my hands in this,” she presses, getting up in his face before even he can react, though carefully telegraphing her intention until her grabby fingers are scritching and stroking his beard. “Wow you are a conditioning god,” she tells him, and Bucky laughs and bats her off until he notices Sam and Steve are turning to stare. 

Well okay then.

“Get your greasy paws off me,” he gripes, theatrically, snickering. His fingers circle her wrists and they struggle, laughing.

“No seriously,” she argues, twisting him into a headlock to get better purchase, “let me feel!” Bucky’s laughing for real as she runs her fingers over his scalp.

“Jealous! You’re jealous!” he gasps out, wriggling. Jesus H. Christ her grip is adamantine, and he should know.

She releases him all at once and steps back. “I am!” she agrees, sparkling at him. Sam and Steve, who’ve been watching the show with, respectively, fond amusement and - huh - a tight, slightly prissy smile, turn back to their conversation. Nice. Bucky turns back to Carol.

“Yeah, well, honesty compels me to acknowledge that this is all after a fuck-ton of leave-in conditioner and a nice, genteel, indoor morning,” he says. “I swear, Danvers, five minutes in any kinda breeze and it’s dry ends and splitting and frizz all over the show. At least if I’ve washed it anyways; a few days in the field and I’m the greasy mop at the back of the closet. As it were.”

Carol snorts. “I don’t think either of us belong in the closet, Barnes.” Bucky grins. “And I hear you, the vacuum of space is hell on the follicles.”

“Ugh, you should have seen me when they used to bring me out of cryo,” he tells her. “This lot?” he points to his hair. “Most scary thing about me.”

Carol shakes her head. “You’re telling me they didn’t let you moisturise your glorious locks? No hydration at all? HYDRA? More like HYDRain’t,” and Bucky snorts his coffee.

“God, Danvers, that’s terrible,” he says, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Her answering laugh is like a shower of meteors on a summer night. Bucky can’t help but smile.

A sudden cloud passes over her face. “Aww, Bucky. I’ve got this perfect all-in-one leave in spray I was going to recommend for you, but I just realised, I got it on Xandar and you only have access to Earth products. Oh Bucky, that makes me sad.” She juts out her lower lip in a big, pouty glum face and Bucky pats her on the shoulder.

“I feel sad just hearing about it,” he says.

“Wait! Hold on one minute. I’ve got some back in my room,” she says, and the sun’s out again, bright on her face. “Seriously, one minute.” She holds up a finger and nods at him, waiting.

“Sure,” he says, and she’s suddenly a blur headed for the door, and then a burst of light and a crack of thunder in the heavens. Bucky shakes his head, feels the tips of his hair rustle on the leather of his jacket and shoves his hands back in his pockets.

“I’m timing you!” he yells at the empty car park.

He spends the next fifty three seconds not looking in the direction of the booth across the room. He’s counting; it really is less than a minute before there’s a bright light, a thud and a gust that rattles the windows, before Carol strolls in the door with a spring in her step.

“Here,” she says, handing him a glassy, nacreous bottle with a pump-action cap. “Guaranteed to preserve bounce and shine, even in the vacuum of space. If you like it, I can hook you up with a more permanent supply.”

“Aww, Danvers, that’s sweet, really,” he says.

“You’re welcome, Bucky-bean,” says Carol, with a wink and a sweet smile. “Keep it. You’ll smell like ozone and glitter like stars and Steve will trail after you like a besotted comet.” She looks too knowing. Bucky gives her a narrow look.

“You really like space, huh?” he says, avoiding the subject.

Carol puts her hands on her hips. “Who doesn’t like space?”

They look at each other for a bit, until Bucky snorts and ducks his head.

“Good, Barnes,” she says, and pounds him between the shoulder blades, causing him to stagger and his arm to recalibrate and freak out. He smooths his hand down it from shoulder to wrist, still marvelling at Shuri’s work. It’s a good arm, it really is.

Their little moment is fortunately interrupted by the jangling of the door. 

“Oh Captain, mine!” bugles a throaty voice. Steve cranes his neck, but no, this call is not for him. The newcomer vaults one handed over a table in the middle of the diner. Valkyrie swaggers up and slings one arm around Carol’s shoulders, nods to Bucky, and takes a swig from the bottle of JD she’s acquired from somewhere, probably in violation of several licensing laws. “Wotcha been up to, beautiful?” she asks.

Carol hooks her own arm around Val’s waist, smacks a kiss on her cheek. She jerks a thumb at Bucky. “Us big, amnesiac lesbians have been swapping hair care tips.”

“Excuse me? Us what?” squeaks Bucky, not sure he’s heard right.

“Oh, I said it, Barnes,” says Carol, smirking evilly.

“Maybe that word means something else in space,” he says, eyes still bugging out.

“Nope,” says Carol, and Valkyrie yelps and giggles as Carol’s hands wander.

“Give him a break,” says Val, still laughing. “You can’t claim him for your side just like that. What about us bisexual disasters? He belongs with us.”

“He’s not a disaster, he’s a war hero,” points out Carol, and _thank you, Danvers, some legitimate recognition at last_ , thinks Bucky, although also - no.

“I’m a war hero!” objects Valkyrie. “I’ve been the hero of many glorious battles, famed in legend, song, story and sometimes Wanted posters.” 

“You’re a glorious mess,” says Carol, taking Valkyrie’s cheeks between her hands and giving her a theatrical smacker of a kiss on the lips before turning back to twinkle her eyes at Bucky. He can’t help but grin back.

“Excuse me,” he tells them, “Last time I checked I liked men just fine, which if you’re gonna be crass, ladies, makes me Bucky Barnes, beautiful bisexual. If have to be anything, which I don’t, thanks.”

“Hoooo, speaking of bisexual disasters, here comes Captain Rogers!” calls Valkyrie over their shoulders, greeting him with a wave of the bottle of bourbon clutched above her head.

Bucky plants his face in his flesh hand.

“I bring you a missive! From Asgard!” declares Valkyrie, arms out towards Steve, who’s making his way towards them.

“I’m always at the service of Asgard,” says Steve, goddam fucking bowing a little. Bucky lifts his eyes to heaven.

“Well the missive is this,” says Val. “This man here,” - she points at Bucky, what the fuck - “is a good man. Be nice to him. He deserves it. I’ve been hearing where some Captainly people - not you, darling - some Captainly _men_ have not been living up to their noble saintly reputation.” She points at Steve. There’s awkward silence.

Steve blinks at finding himself confronted with a whole lot of angry Asgardian.

“Um?” he says. Behind him Sam is trying not to laugh. Steve turns and narrows his eyes at Sam, who gives him an innocent look. When Steve turns back to Valkyrie, Sam winks at her over Steve’s shoulder.

“Yes, um. So the message is this: be good to him or there will be consequences.”

“Uh, there will?”

“Yep. Me and my girl here, we will launch you into orbit.” Val indicates Carol.

Carol says nothing, but she’s assumed her Captain-Marvel-Is-Ready-For-Trouble pose, noble chin, fists at her sides. She’s also smiling, gently yet weirdly intimidatingly. Of course it helps if you’ve seen her fly straight through a spaceship the size of Manhattan. That sort of thing sticks in the mind. It isn’t lost on Steve either.

“Of course, we know you’re always good to him, so no problem,” says Carol.

Steve glances at Carol. Bucky doesn’t know what he sees there, but he smiles. “Yes ma’am, always,” he says. “Ma’am,” he repeats, to Valkyrie, nodding.

That, it turns out, is not the right thing to say. Valkyrie’s eyes bulge.

“Ma’am?! Ma’am?!” she rages, reaching for Steve’s throat only to find herself restrained gently but firmly by the strongest being Bucky’s ever met. Valkyrie fights her. “Let me at him, Carol!”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” says Carol, leering. “I can think of better things to do with our time than bothering with an old man who thinks he looks good in a onesie, sweetheart.”

That, at least, seems to work. Val stops trying to get at Steve and twists abruptly into Carol’s arms. “Oooh, me too,” she purrs, twining herself around Carol. She thrusts the empty JD bottle behind her and into Bucky’s hands and hollers, “Later, loser! Later, Barnes!” at the pair of them, backing Carol towards the exit. Carol grins over her waves as they leave, wrapped up in each other.

“Bye, Bucky. Remember - pics when you use the conditioner! And I can get you more!”

“Bye, Danvers!” he yells, waving.

He and Steve are left in the middle of the diner. Sam strolls up to join them.

They watch as there’s another bright flash. They count together, sotto voce, until they hear the sonic boom.

Bucky sighs and turns to Steve. “Ah, young love,” he says, mock wistful, trying not to sound bitter.

Sam clears his throat and crosses his arms. _Ooops_ , thinks Bucky.

Sam glares at the pair of them. “Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says. “I’m going to get the check, then I’m going home, alone, for a date with Marvin Gaye on the stereo and a well earned bubble bath. You two are going to stop this nonsense, talk to each other, do whatever the fuck you do to make up - wow, am I regretting that turn of phrase - and I’ll see you both at work tomorrow.” He gestures between them with a poky finger, all typical no-nonsense Wilson with meaningful eyebrows, until they both nod. “Good,” he says, before striding off to the bar.

Steve looks at Bucky, really looks at him. It feels like it’s been the first time in a while.

“So, uh, Space Shampoo?” Steve asks, hands in his pockets, head ducked, looking at Bucky from under his brows. “You need that stuff?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. How does he love this idiot?

“Check, if you like, Rogers,” he says, with a shrug, pretending like he doesn’t care, bending his head to give Steve better access.

Steve gulps, and reaches out, testing the strands between his fingers. “It really is soft,” he croaks.

Bucky tips his head back up and grins, waggles his eyebrows. “We’ll have to do something about that then,” he says. 

Steve’s answering smile is like sunrise over the ocean. It’s quite the sight.

Bucky thinks they’ll probably be okay.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The thing I love about Carol is, she’s kind.


End file.
